


Safe Harbor

by KaelsMiscellany



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Comfort, D/s, Established Relationship, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, established D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a tough day at work Jordan needs to forget for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Harbor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostmemoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostmemoria/gifts).



> For Veena, because she's almost done with finals and so deserved 'you survived another year of school' porn fics.
> 
> ~~yep fics, there will hopefully be a Marrish one coming soon...heh 'coming'~~

Jordan finds himself shaking as he gets off his shift, as rough ones go this one was pretty bad and he just…

He has enough sense of mind at least to attempt not to drive on auto-pilot as he goes to Lydia; he knows if he asks for it she’ll help him. Pulling into the driveway he’s relieved to see her mom’s car is gone –Lydia’s an adult now sure but it’d still be awkward having her mom there.

Knocking on the door he focuses on trying to calm himself; when she opens the door Lydia only looks at him for a second before her expression turns concerned. “Jordan?”

She steps aside as he comes in and closes the door behind him. The second she’s done that he turns and hugs her, burying his face in her hair. They sink to the ground and he lets out a shuddering sigh as she runs a hand through his hair.

After a few minutes of silence she moves, pulling her head away to look at him. “What’s wrong Jordan?”

He takes a few shaky breaths, then shakes his head. “Bad day at work, but I can’t, I don’t want to talk about it please. Can I, I want to worship at the thrones of the Underworld.” Agreed on words, asking to give up everything; and not just to her.

Her eyes stare at him for a good long moment, “are you sure?”

He nods, he just needs to not think.

She closes her eyes, then nods. “Alright my sweet Adonis.” He sags into her at her words; her grip on his hair tightens, pulling his head upright. “Go upstairs and get ready.” She gives him the sweetest and most agonizing kiss before drawing away and getting up to walk off, pulling out her cell phone.

Feeling steadier he gets up and makes his way to her room. Once there he undresses, folding his clothes into a neat pile. Going over to her dresser he opens the top drawer and pulls out his underwear, as always the lacy panties feel strange and exciting. He steps over to her vanity and sorting through her jewelry pulls out a wide leather collar, one of his ID tags –Lydia always wears the other one– hanging from the loop.

His mind begins to settle as he attaches the collar, and hearing footsteps approaching he sinks to his knees in the middle of the room.

Lydia enters, a plate of apple slices in one hand, and passes him, the only acknowledgement of him she gives is a hand grazing his shoulder. He stays where he is as she moves behind him to her desk, he hears her moving around and the sound of her laptop starting up.

“Here,” her voice starts him into action, turning around he crawls over to her. Settling back into a kneeling position at her side, he leans against her; giving a contented sigh when he feels her nails scrape against the back of his neck. She repeats the movement then pulls away, the sounds of typing soon reaching his ears.

Closing his eyes he rests his head against her thigh, and just floats.

Every once in a while she brushes a hand against him, keeping him anchored; and occasionally she turns his head and offers him an apple slice. He loses track of the time, which is exactly what he wants, but becomes hyper aware when her touch becomes more intimate. With her fingers guiding him he eagerly shifts between her legs and buries his face in her thighs.

Peppering her skin with soft kisses he makes his way closer to her underwear. He licks a stripe up them, smiling when she gives a pleased hum. Tentatively he rests his hands on her knees and pulls away slightly. “Mistress may I?”

“May you what mine?” She doesn’t look away from whatever she’s working on and her tone sounds almost bored; but it still makes him shiver with awareness.

Turning his head he lays an open-mouthed kiss above her knee. “May I remove your underwear? I want to give you worship.”

Her typing pauses for a brief moment, before resuming. “You may,” she arches up and cants her hips; he slides the blue satiny fabric to her knees, and once she’s settled in again returns to his previous position.

She’s already wet, and slowly he begins to lap at her, tongue working in broad strokes to get every drop he can. When he hears her breathing hitch he pauses; he knows what will happen to him if she thinks he’s distracting her. Tensely he waits, but soon her breathing returns to normal and she continues working again. Starting up again he goes even slower, intent on only giving her the thread of pleasure she wants.

Eventually she shuts her laptop down, and he feels the fabric of her skirt slither against his skin as she hikes it up. “Eat,” she commands as her fingers tangle tightly into his hair.

Shoulders slumping he presses into her and begins his work in earnest, relishing her sweet taste in a way he hadn’t before. A quiet litany of pleasure from Lydia accompanies his actions and drives him on. He knows she’s close to orgasming when she gets even quieter, her voice going almost silent.

The slam of a car door has him freezing though, at least until Lydia tugs painfully on his hair. “I didn’t tell you to stop mine,” her hands press him closer, his nose bumping against her clit. “Even if it were my mother you shouldn’t stop until you’ve satisfied me.”

Chastised he redoubles his efforts, though he’s all too aware of the fact that there’s someone else in the house now, heavy footsteps leisurely making their way towards them. The closer they get the more intently he finds himself working: licking, sucking, scraping his teeth delicately over her, using his nose to press and rub her clit.

Her hands vanish and her thighs clamp tightly around him as she orgasms, flooding his mouth with her juices. He starts to pull away as her embrace relaxes, just to catch his breath.

Except a new hand tangles itself into his hair, fingers no less elegant but longer, and with claws. “Now, now.” Peter chides. “Don’t be rude boy, clean up after yourself.”

Shuddering he presses back in and begins licking her again. After what feels like hours Peter’s grip relaxes and pulls Jordan’s head away, his hand leaves Jordan’s hair, moving down so claws can trace designs in the skin of his neck and shoulders. “Good boy,” he smiles under Peter’s praise. “Look how happy you’ve made your mistress.”

Glancing up through his lashes Jordan sees Lydia slumped against the back of her chair, her own gaze hooded but the smile clear on her face. Pride has him straightening, shoulders squaring at the obvious proof of a job well done.

His focus pulls away from her though as Peter’s claws begin to move again, tracing up his neck and across to the underside of his jaw. They give an insistent tap. “Up,” Peter’s tone leaves no room for argument.

Slowly, otherwise his knees will protest, Jordan rises, until he’s standing before Peter, looking straight into bright blue eyes. Peter ‘tut’s, “you did such a good job cleaning up, but you’re still a mess boy. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry sir,” his eyes dart away from Peter’s and he tilts his head slightly to bare his neck.

Peter sighs. “Well best not let it go to waste,” Jordan goes with Peter’s hands as the pull him even closer to the wolf and a sigh escapes him when he feels Peter’s tongue glide across his chin. The grooming is perfunctory, Peter’s hands moving Jordan’s head where it needs to be; Jordan’s nothing more than an object and it soothes his racing heart.

When he’s done Peter takes a step back, though he still keeps his hold on Jordan. “There, much better.” Out of the corner of his eye Jordan sees Peter’s gaze turn behind him. “Well sweetheart what shall we do next?”

Once again Jordan hears movement behind him, but he keeps his eyes where they are, only seeing Lydia when she’s come to a stop next to Peter –she’s shed her dress leaving her only in a lacy blue bra and the underwear she’d pulled back on. She’s still a little flushed, but otherwise looks as if she never orgasmed. “Well, I do believe mine has yet to give you a proper hello Peter,” she frowns and he feels a flush of embarrassment cover his face. “But I think we should check him first, wouldn’t want him spilling at an importune moment.”

Her words brought to his attention the fact that he had a raging hard on; the lace of his panties brushing against it with every twitch, sending pleasure darting through him. Jordan bit the inside of his lip to keep from moaning, Lydia’s fingers grasped his chin. “Stop that,” she said. “You don’t keep anything from me unless I tell you to, remember?”

He gave a shaky nod. “Yes mistress.”

“Good, now you’re going to be polite aren’t you? Not make a mess while we look after you?”

“Yes, Mistress. I won’t make a mess.”

She smile brightly at him, “so nice,” she leans in and kisses his chest, leaving a deep red lipstick print above his nipple. “Makes me want to show you off.” He blushes.

“I don’t know,” Peter muses, Jordan focusing on the fact that Peter’s hand comes to rest on his stomach. “I quite like having this pretty boy all to ourselves.” Jordan feels his blush spread at Peter’s words, while Peter’s hand drifts lower.

The first touch of Peter’s hand on his cock has Jordan shouting, the feeling almost too much; he amazes even himself when he realizes he still hasn’t orgasmed. Peter gives a thoughtful hum as his fingers lightly trace the shape of Jordan’s aching member. Just as quickly as it arrived though the hand is gone, making Jordan whimper.

Hands slide up his sides, while Lydia and Peter both make soothing sounds. “There, there mine.” Lydia croons as she traces a finger around his chest. “It’s for your own good.” She turns her head to Peter, arching a questioning eyebrow.

“Unless we plan on being very careful,” the heat in Peter’s eyes makes Jordan feel a little weak kneed. “He’ll need a little help.”

Lydia’s lips purse, but there’s an excited light in her eyes. “Shall you do the honors or I?”

Peter’s hands return to Jordan’s head, a thumb brushing roughly against his lips. “You,” Peter’s eyes flicker brighter blue. “He can give me a proper hello in the meantime.”

Since he’s going to end up in that position anyways he doesn’t bother to fight his buckling knees and falls to the ground, Peter’s hands the only thing that probably keeps him from hurting-hurting himself.

Lydia’s hands replace Peter’s and his head’s being turned to face hers, she’s on her knees too –a rare position for her to take, she leans in and kisses him, tongue darting into his mouth for the briefest of seconds before she’s pulling away. “Be a good boy for him,” she instructs as she stands and walks over to her dresser.

Obeying her command he turns his head back to Peter, eye level with the other man’s belt. There’s still a little distance between them but Jordan still leans towards Peter, pressing his lips against the outline of Peter’s cock tongue darting out for a heartbeat.

Peter steps closer and Jordan hums in delight when he hears the sound of Peter undoing his pants.

When his cock falls free Jordan darts in, greedily taking the head of it into his mouth lavishing it with the attention it deserves. Peter grunts and his hands cup Jordan’s head, no forcing him forward, but certainly keeping him from pulling back too much. In almost automatic response Jordan feels his hands grab Peter’s hips.

Not that Jordan has any intention of moving back. He starts sliding forward swallowing down nearly all of Peter, at least until the other man starts to pull away. Before Jordan can even question it Peter’s pinched his ear. “Breath,” he reminds all too patiently.

Oh. This time he goes slower, remembering to breath. About halfway through this time he feels delicate hands begin to tug down his own underwear, and Lydia’s body press against his back. “I’m sad to see these go,” her lips press against the back of his neck, right above the collar. “We didn’t really get to have much fun with them this time.”

Jordan moans around Peter, memories of other sessions goading him on.

When his own cock finally escapes confinement it’s both exhilarating and torturous. It becomes even closer to torture when he feels Lydia’s hands gather him up, almost clinically putting on the cock ring she’d grabbed. He whines, at the same moment reaching the base of Peter’s cock. “Good boy,” Peter praises and his hands release Jordan’s head.

Still Jordan remains where he is for a few seconds, enjoying the feeling of being surrounded like this.

He pulls away slowly, humming all the while, smiling at Peter’s groans. A part of him sigh in disappointment when Peter’s cock slips away, but he was only supposed to be saying hello.

His grip on Peter’s hips remains though, and he’s grateful when the other man doesn’t try and remove them, or scold him for it, when Lydia starts moving again.

He feels her calves shuffle against his as she moves back a little, her hands soothing down his back, as if attempting to calm him. And it works after a fashion, even if his body isn’t relaxed his mind is. Willing to go wherever they might take him.

Once again he glances up through his lashes to see Peter watching them both, awareness sparking down Jordan’s spine to pool in his belly.

Her hands leave; a few seconds later the sharp pop of the lube cap has him jumping, a shiver racing through him. But she doesn't touch him again until what feels like a forever later, fingers that aren't lubed landing on his ass, plumping the cheeks for a few moments before splitting them open.

Even though he's expecting it, he still jumps again when lube-slick fingers touch his anus. A shuddering gasp escapes him as they begin to tease and rub, not penetrating but certainly threatening it. He finds himself shamelessly arching and pressing towards her, trying to get that penetration.

But Lydia clicks her tongue in a chiding manner and he finds himself freezing. The movement of her fingers slow. “Good mine,” she croons.

All he can do is grunt in response as she begins pressing a finger in. Once she's gotten it past the first knuckle he starts to feel the press of a second finger; he fights not to move, not to push back and seat them both firmly inside him.

His grip on Peter’s hips tightens with the effort and without meaning to he tilts forward his forehead hitting Peter’s stomach, his breathing turning ragged.

Lydia stops and Jordan feels Peter’s fingers trace over his cheek. “Jordan?” Peter’s voice breaks the questioning silence.

Turning his head Jordan inhales shakily. “I’m fine,” he pants out; and he really is. It’s just always a little overwhelming, experiences like this. Not that he’d trade them for the world.

Above and behind him Lydia and Peter exchange some silent conversation, but at it’s end Lydia resumes her work, eventually getting both of her fingers in and without even giving him a chance to react begins her work.

The urge to orgasm is almost painful now, but it soon gets washed away by the pleasure Lydia gives him and the constant petting Peter seems intent on doing.

Lydia’s fingers leave sooner than he’d like, but his moan of discontent gets cut off when he feels something bigger and much harder than her fingers press against him; almost effortlessly the dildo slides in and all Jordan can do is moan as it fills him.

Once she has it firmly seated Lydia pulls away, her hand stroking his cheek as she stands next to Peter. She gives a happy sigh and leans her head against Peter’s shoulder. “Glorious.”

Peter hums in agreement his head coming down to nuzzle Lydia’s hair. “Indeed. And yet, there is the fact that he had to be reminded about saying hello…” Peter drifts off suggestively.

But Lydia only rolls her eyes. “And yet you were the one who decided he needed to be groomed,” she gives a haughty sniff. “If anything I think _you_ should be punished for putting the blame on mine.”

“Please Lydia,” Peter nuzzles her hair. “As if I’d let any part of you go to waste.”

At their easy banter a warm feeling grows in Jordan’s chest; contentedness spreading through him like pleasure.

“Mine,” Lydia’s voice refocuses him.

He looks up at her, wondering what she sees in his gaze. “Yes mistress?”

“Up on the bed,” she walks off.

Jordan does so, even though it’s wonderful agony to walk around with a dildo in his ass. Peter follows, getting very handsy as he positions Jordan. He’s on his knees but tilted forward, hands holding onto one of the bars on Lydia’s headboard.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Lydia return, a length of vivid red silk in hand. With exaggerated care she hands it over to Peter, and Jordan swallows convulsively as he watches Peter wrap it a few times around his hands. Lydia, who’d lost her bra in the process of getting the silk saunters over to a wingbacked chair she’d somehow managed to fit into her room, and curls into it like a cat. Her chin fits neatly on one of her knees as she turns a little back towards him and Peter.

Who quickly draws Jordan's attention back to him when clawed fingers press insistently at the small of his back. “Did I say you could look at her?”

He finds himself whining as he looks away, _fuck_ , but the angry tone in Peter's voice does things to him. The claws vanish, to be quickly replaced by warm finger pads rubbing tiny circles. “Good boy,” Peter croons, an echo of Lydia earlier, before pulling away.

Part of Jordan wants to follow him, but he doesn't know what Peter's planning, and at the moment he doesn't want to know what any of Peter's 'punishments' might entail.

His heartbeat ratchets up exponentially as he holds as still as he can for Peter as the other man begins moving closer. The first touch of silk against his arms has him sighing, this is exactly what he wants.

Peter works methodically; binding his arms just enough that he can barely move them, yet loose enough that the silk feels more like a caress than a binding. With they finish Peter’s hands slid down his arms and sides, fingers pressing claws gently into the skin of his hips. Then they’re gone.

The clawed fingers return and instinctively Jordan tries to get away when they brush against the thin skin of his perineum and right over his femoral artery. A 'tut' from Peter freezes him though; reminding him he needs to trust that Peter won’t hurt him, at least not beyond what Jordan’ will tolerate.

As if in reward he can feel the claws sink back into Peter’s skin, until only regular fingertips are teasing him. “Gods,” Peter murmurs, Jordan shudders and jerks when he feels Peter grab the dildo and twist it. “You really are magnificent boy.”

He feels he’s blushing so much that there’s not a patch of pale skin left. His grip on the bar in his hands tightens and he moans as Peter begins to pull out the dildo torturously slow. Yet anticipation burns in Jordan’s veins on a hope.

The pop of the lube cap again raises that anticipation up another notch at his confirmed hope. Peter makes a sound of pleasure, and moments later Jordan feels an all too familiar press against him. Jordan’s breath leaves him in a rush as Peter enters him. His teeth start digging into his bottom lip, for some reason unwilling to make any of his usual sounds pleasure despite what Lydia said earlier.

Peter’s chest presses against Jordan’s back as Peter gently tugs on his ear with blunt teeth. “Going to make me work for it are you?” His tone isn't angry, just dangerously pleased and Jordan thinks he if it weren’t for the cock ring he’d be orgasming.

Peter's free hand moves to cup his cock as if he somehow sensed that thought and runs his fingers up it as he clicks his tongue. “Not until I let you go boy.”

Which rips a moan right out of his throat, which for a brief second he thinks is too high for him though it's quickly followed by the realization he's not the only one moaning. Lydia's obvious pleasure makes his cock twitch again and Peter quickly lets go, that hand moving up to his throat, fingers sliding under his collar to make a tight fit the same moment Peter bottoms out, fuck. Jordan grits his teeth.

That hand quickly leaves though, a fact which Jordan is grateful for, taking up residence on his other hip. Which is when Peter really gets to work.

As he moves Peter hits his prostate enough that Jordan’s not as mindful of keeping his mouth shut, cries and moans pouring from his mouth like water. Peter's laughter at the nape of his neck feels shockingly intimate and it wrenches a whimper from him.

Jordan finds his head being turned. “Look.”

It takes him a few moments to just focus but when he does his mouth dries up. Lydia's position has changed completely while the two of them were off in their little world: her ass is resting on one of the chair's arms, panties caught in her ankles, while her head is pressing against the opposite wing in obvious pleasure from the three fingers she's masturbating with.

“Ohhhh,” it's tiny and wrecked, like every other sound of pleasure Lydia makes and once more his cock tries to harden to no avail. _“Ah!”_ She arches even more and Jordan finds himself amazed at how different watching her orgasm is from experiencing it in her in one fashion or another.

She slumps bonelessly into the chair, her ragged breathing joining his and Peter's. “She’s certainly something else.” He says it so fondly and quietly that Jordan has to wonder if Peter’s talking to himself. “Lydia,” this he says much louder, and seconds later Lydia’s looking at the two of them with pleasure-glazed eyes. “Why don’t you come here so we can give the boy a proper reward?”

A lazy smile blooms across Lydia’s face and Jordan watches entranced as she sways out of the chair, kicking off her panties as she stalks towards them. He finds himself swallowing again as Lydia slithers into the space beneath him, his gaze traveling downwards enough to see her legs spread widely on either side of his, her lips wet and wanting.

His sight goes a little white from trying not to come when Peter's teeth gently scrape against the same spot as earlier. Almost leisurely Peter moves from his nape back to an ear. “When I bite you, you're going to come, is that clear?” Jordan feels one of Peter’s hands undo the cock ring and he whines at the returning sensations. “If you don't. . .well Lydia can attest to the thoroughness of my spankings.”

Jordan is fairly certain Peter's trying to get him to orgasm before instructed, especially with the mental image his words paint. He barely has the presence of mind to nod in answer to Peter's question and heaves a little internal sigh of relief when Peter accepts it, his nose traveling the path he had just taken in reverse. Almost gently Peter’s hand leads his leaking cock to Lydia’s eager cunt. A groan escaping him when he slips right in.

Peter latches his lips at the crook of Jordan's neck, giving a good hard suck; Jordan finds himself so focused on that that he barely even notices Peter plunging in and out of his ass, or Lydia's quiet sighs as he jackrabbits into her almost mindlessly. Blunt teeth quickly replace lips and less than a heartbeat later Jordan can feel them start to shift into fangs, the groan that causes barely slipping out between gritted teeth.

Then they just sit there and it's the best and the worst thing Jordan has ever experienced. Peter pulls out enough that the tip of his cock deliberately rubs against his prostate, enough of a maddening distraction that soon Jordan completely forgets about the teeth.

Which he realizes is exactly what Peter wanted.

They sink in deep, deep enough that Jordan's certain he'll feel it tomorrow in spite of his healing. Despite his misgivings at the brief flood of pain filling him he manages to start coming and somehow a shout escapes him. “Fuck!” Lydia’s cunt flutters around him as it take in every bit of seed he has to offer.

As if that's what he was waiting for Peter's actions turn even more animalistic: fingers digging in even harder, cock nearly leaving Jordan every time he pulls away, only to slam back in almost viciously. Sending Jordan’s own hips into Lydia’s, and he sees her eyes roll back in pleasure.

Soon though it all starts to translate to pleasure in Jordan's addled mind, and he can feel his cock trying to stiffen again inside Lydia.It takes said addled mind a few heartbeats more to realize it's because Peter is taking the pain from him.

Jordan sighs almost silently and finds himself relaxing completely. Peter gives a pleased rumble which seems to echo in Jordan's chest. Finally he feels Peter come, his full weight falling onto Jordan, pressing him even closer to Lydia, though he can feel his arms protesting the movement –lucky him that pain doesn’t exist at the moment.

Almost as soon as the weight came though it’s gone, and Jordan feels himself being moved back up to a more comfortable positon. Peter’s nose nuzzling the back of Jordan’s neck as he gives a few more thrusts, just for fun.

Then Peter's pulling out completely, and before Jordan even realizes it his arms are free and Peter's rubbing them vigorously between his hands helping relieve the pins and needles sensation that starts. Finally Peter laps at the bite, at the very least getting all the blood and Jordan finds himself shivering. Then he’s tugging Jordan out of Lydia and rolling them both over so Lydia’s curled up on Jordan’s chest.

Peter gives them both brief kisses, “I’ll be right back.”

Jordan’s attention is dragged from Peter to Lydia when he feels her fingers wiggle under his collar, shifting the leather around until the buckle is resting above them. “Thank you,” she places a kiss on his cheek as she undoes the collar. “You’re so very wonderful.” The leather slaps against a wall as she tosses it aside, her fingers briefly rub his neck before drifting down to pet his chest.

“Thank _you_ ,” he manages to get out. It’s easier to let go when he doesn’t have the choice, when he has two people he can trust to catch him when he needs them too. He buries his nose in her hair, inhaling the smell of her floral shampoo.

The bed sinks as Peter returns, almost clinically Peter cleans him and Lydia. Then a finger gently taps Jordan’s cheek. “I’ve got water for you Jordan, and a treat.”

A weak laugh manages to leave Jordan as he turns and tilts his head. Gratefully he drinks the water though. When he finishes Peter sets the glass aside, “open up.”

He does so and his eyes flutter closed when the chocolate square hits his tongue. Unable to resist he bites in and gives a pleased moan when he tastes cherries.

Lydia laughs into his shoulder. “You’re spoiling him Peter,” though she hardly sounds angry.

“I don’t see why not,” Peter says primly as he settles in behind Jordan, tugging the blankets up around them. His nose brushes the bite he’d made earlier, as if checking to see that it’s healing properly; it is –no one might know what Jordan is but his healing factor’s second only to werewolves. “Jordan could use a little spoiling I think.”

Yet another blush creeps up his neck.

“This is true,” Lydia concedes, burying her face in his neck as she yawns. “But later, nap time now.”

Jordan can get behind that, closing his eyes and burrowing deeper into the space between the two he trusts most in the world. When they wake up he’ll probably tell them what sent him running into their embrace, and he knows that they’ll get him through that just like they have everything else. Surrounded by so much love he slips into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
